


i'll be good: draco malfoy

by canonjohnlock



Series: security & decay - house of black [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Draco Malfoy & His Parents, Draco Malfoy & House of Black, Draco Malfoy vs. House of Black, House of Black, I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young, Song fic, TW: Implied Emotional Abuse, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, video fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonjohnlock/pseuds/canonjohnlock
Summary: Be good, Draco Malfoy.





	i'll be good: draco malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Blah, blah, blah. You all know who my beta is, if you don't, where have you been? Anyway, Jules has an AO3 account now (neverwherever) and you should go check it out because I love her and her writing. 
> 
> This was inspired and based on a video by AnaDia on YouTube, which I will link to in the fic. This is a character study, and all the relationships listed in the tags above are PLATONIC. 
> 
> I suppose there are undertones of emotional abuse in this fic, based on what I imagine would be Draco's boggart. 
> 
> Other character studies that may be added to his series include Andromeda Black Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and Sirius Black. Sirius' character study will also be included in a marauders character study series (Remus, James, and Peter) I am working on. I'm hoping to do character studies on many different characters, including all the Weasleys (not next gen), Lily and Petunia Evans, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, and the Longbottoms: Frank, Alice, and Neville. If I will ever actually get around to publishing these, let alone writing them, I will be as shocked as you are. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated. Honestly, when you guys leave comments, it makes me more determined to get more material out there. Even just a quick little comment like "Well done" or "I liked this part" or even constructive criticism makes my day. I'm sure this goes for all authors, so please don't be shy. I will never be mad if you offer criticism (as long as it's constructive) and I will probably smile all day, too. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And don't forget to check out my fic rec page on tumblr: http://siriuslyjamespotter.tumblr.com/fic-recs

Inspired by this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0oBTBrgkoc) by AnaDia.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy whispered, “Be good,” into her son’s ear as she hugged him on Platform 9 and ¾. Lucius said the same thing with his hand resting on Draco’s shoulder. “Be good, Draco,” he said, voice lofty and proud. Draco stood up straighter and nodded. He would be good.

Draco listened to his father. He offered his hand to Harry Potter, and got rejected. It bruised his young and fragile ego. He pulled his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and stalked away. He never looked back, and never offered his hand again. He was Sorted Slytherin, like all his ancestors before him. His father wrote him, _Good job, Draco._ His mother sent him chocolates.

_Be good,_ his mother wrote after Draco had sent a letter to his father telling him what Harry Potter had done during their first flying lesson. _Be better,_ his father wrote.

He won Slytherin as many points as he could. He practiced his spells, did his homework, and even offered help to his classmates. Better than Gryffindor, he told himself, watching Potter and Weasley turn in half-arsed essays. The House cup slipped through their fingers, and Draco boarded the train with a burning hatred of Harry Potter.

“Be good,” his mother told him the next year on the same platform. “Be good,” his father said. He became Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team and stayed late after practice with a Snitch. He stayed on the pitch until the sun disappeared and the stars rose. He would float above the field until he saw his namesake, the constellation _Draco_ , appear, and either go back to the castle or continue looking for the Snitch. He became the best Seeker Slytherin had seen in years, but Potter always beat him out. He always snatched the Snitch from right under his nose.

“I hope Granger is next,” he told Crabbe and Goyle once Mudbloods started getting petrified.

He watched the Weasley girl slowly shrink into herself. He had seen his father slip the book into her cauldron in the shop on Diagon. His father had always been good at the sleight of hand, but Draco had always been better at spotting him. He didn’t know what the book was, but knew it had to be bad when Weaslette got smaller and smaller. _Be good,_ his mother wrote.

Potter and Weasley saved the school; Lockhart lost his memory; and Slytherin lost the House cup again.

“Be good,” his mother told him on the platform before his third year. “Be good,” his father said.

Third year brought Professor Lupin and the Dementors. The train stopped, the air turned frigid, and Draco felt the happiness leak out of him. He remembered every single time he had disappointed his father, and wondered how he could ever please him.

Professor Lupin was unorthodox, and brought a boggart into the classroom. Draco stood at the back of the line, head up and shoulders squared, but he trembled. He knew what he would see. Neville saw Snape; Weasley saw a giant spider; and Lupin saw a white circle. Draco would see his father, a sneer etched into his face, the words, _Be better,_ dripping from his lips.

Sirius Black infiltrated Hogwarts, looking for Potter. Lupin continued to disappear every full moon, and Sirius Black kidnapped Weasley. Gryffindor won the House cup, and Slytherin took second again.

“Be good,” his mother told him. “Be good,” his father said, too. The Triwizard tournament was announced, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrived. Potter’s name flew from the cup, and Draco sneered. He made buttons that flashed and passed them out.

_Be good,_ his mother wrote.

He watched Potter fight a dragon, pull Weasley and Gabrielle Delacour from the Lake, and show up in the maze clutching Cedric’s dead body.

“He’s back,” Potter cried, hands fisted in Cedric’s torn shirt. “Voldemort’s back. He’s back.”

“Be good,” his mother told him before his fifth year. “Be good,” his father said.

Draco wore his Prefect badge proudly, docked points from every House but Slytherin when he could, and made sure to rub his badge in Potter’s face. He mocked Potter every chance he got, read the _Prophet_ every morning to see what was being said about the Boy Who Li(v)ed, and joined the Inquisitorial Squad. He wondered sometimes, when he was out late looking for the secret club Umbridge believed Potter was running, if what he was doing was worth it.

He had heard whispers over the summer of a weapon the Dark Lord wanted, but couldn’t get to. Was it Potter? Was it something else? His father tried using his Ministry ties to find it, but got nowhere. He heard the word Prophecy and wondered what it could say.

The Weasley twins left with a bang, leaving Umbridge angrier than ever. Draco was better. He tried harder. _Be good_ , his mother wrote.

There was a battle in the Department of Mysteries. His father lost or broke the weapon, and Draco was punished.

“He’s just a boy!” his mother cried in their dining room once the Dark Lord had given Draco his task.

“I’m sixteen, Mother,” Draco said, standing straighter.

“It’s an honor,” Bellatrix drawled, grinning with rotted teeth.

“Be good,” his mother whispered into his ear on the Platform.

“How?” he said, and pulled away.

He knew Potter was eavesdropping on the train. _Be good_.

He felt his nose break under his foot, and wondered if killing somebody was as easy as crushing the thin cartilage in Potter’s nose.

Draco found the Vanishing Cabinet, and wondered how he could fix it. He gave a locket to Katie Bell, and almost killed her. It was the first time he had used an Unforgivable, and it felt dirty on his tongue. He thought it was easy, to cast something so dark. He had seen Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus with a lazy flick of the wrist, had seen the Dark Lord kill without even looking at who his wand was pointed at. It should have been easy.

Katie came back, and Draco broke down. Potter found him, sobbing in the bathroom. How could he kill Dumbledore? He couldn’t even hold an Imperius Curse on someone. How could he kill a man? He hated the Dark Lord for giving him the task; he hated his father for choosing to follow a power-crazed psychopath; he hated Harry Potter for being who he was. The hatred burned a hole through his soul, and he shot a spell at Potter.

It wasn’t enough, wasn’t strong enough. The hole got bigger, the fire tore through him, and he cried, “ _Crucio!_ ”

But Potter’s spell hit him first, and he fell to the ground. He thought he was going to die, and for the first time that year, he felt at peace.

But Snape showed up, healed his wounds, and took him to Pomfrey.

Draco fixed the cabinet and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He confronted Dumbledore on the tower, disarmed him too easily.

He had to kill him, had to end a man’s life to save his own, to save his family, but he couldn’t. Was his family even worth it? _Be good,_ his mother had said. _How?_

Snape killed Dumbledore, and Draco fled. He wouldn’t see Hogwarts until the next May during the final battle.

He didn’t go to the Platform that year; his mother never told him to be good. He watched Voldemort kill in his home, where he had learned to walk and run and fly and read, where he had learned what being a Malfoy meant.

He saw Snatchers take Luna Lovegood down to the dungeons, and then Dean Thomas and Ollivander -- Ollivander, who had sold him his wand when he was just eleven. He could hear their moans sometimes, when it was really quiet at night. He would leave to go flying then, and look for his namesake.

The Snatchers brought in Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Bellatrix asked him if Potter was really Potter. The others couldn’t tell, not with his face swelled up like that. He looked at the boy’s face and, swollen as it was, knew it was Potter.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, head down.

“Look closer!” Bellatrix screeched, forcing him down to his knees to be at Potter’s level.

Draco stared at Potter, at his green eyes, the stretched lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

_Be good._

“I-I can’t be sure,” he said, scrambling back.

Weasley and Potter were tossed in the dungeon and Draco wondered if he had been good enough as his aunt tortured Granger. The word _Mudblood_ was carved into her arm, and Draco wondered if he could ever see or hear that word again without thinking of Hermione Granger’s anguished screams in the room where he had said his first word and had his first Christmas.

Somehow, Potter and Weasley got out, and Potter took Draco’s wand.

_Be good._

He went back to Hogwarts as a war raged on. “Be good,” his mother said. “Be better,” his father told him.

Draco found Potter in the Room of Lost Things, chased him down with Crabbe and Zabini. _Be good_.

What was he doing?

The fire licked at his heels as he climbed a tottering pile of lost things. Crabbe lost his footing, fell into the fire he had conjured. Draco kept climbing.

Potter saved him.

_Be good_.

Draco ran.

Potter died in the forest. Draco clutched his wand in his hand. The first spell he had cast with it had been a Lumos. What would be the last?

But Potter wasn’t dead, and Draco finally understood the difference between his mother saying ‘be good’ and his father saying it. His mother meant be good; his father meant ‘do our name proud.’ Draco finally listened to his mother.

“Potter!” he cried, and tossed him his wand. If he died wandless at Hogwarts, at least he was good for once.

“Be good,” Draco told Scorpius on Platform 9 and ¾ in September of 2017.

_I'll be could_

_For all the times_

_I never could_

He was so proud of his son. “Be good,” Draco said again, eyes squeezed shut as he hugged his son, and watched him board the Hogwarts Express.

 

 


End file.
